


Time Will Crawl and Our Mouths Run Dry

by hailtherandom



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, I Tried To Write Porn And Then Feels Snuck Their Way In, Interesting Working Arrangements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailtherandom/pseuds/hailtherandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It was Hermann's idea, oddly enough.</i><br/><i>Sometimes Newt never quite believes that, thinks he made it up in a dream or a drunken haze, because Hermann, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, does not suggest things like that.</i><br/><i>But he did, and Newt laughed in his face, and then blinked a few times and said, "what, really?"</i><br/><i>"Yes, really," Hermann said. "It's logical, Newton, if you take a moment to think about it."</i><br/>---<br/>Hermann and Newt. Mutual handjobs at twenty-one hundred hours every Wednesday and Friday.<br/>Slight complications develop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Will Crawl and Our Mouths Run Dry

**Author's Note:**

> This fic based on an ask that Ina (7ns on tumblr) got a while back. She also said that "when the sun goes down, so does Hermann" but it did it the other way around.
> 
> Also this fic switches between the present and flashbacks to the past.
> 
> Title taken from David Bowie's "Time Will Crawl".

Newt sits at his desk, running tests on microscope slides full of kaiju cells, jotting down illegible notes that will one day turn into a PPDC report. He bounces one knee rapidly, hooks his other foot around one leg of his chair, and glances up at the clock perched on top of a file cabinet across the room.

_20:39_

Newt grinds his teeth and bounces his leg faster. He can feel the front of his trousers growing tight and swears quietly in German. He's still got another twenty-one minutes to wait, but Newt's trained himself by this point. It's nothing but a Pavlovian response.

(He tries not to think of it as Hermann training him. He doesn't think he could stand the indignity, or the smug look on the bastard's face.)

Newt's erection digs insistently into the zipper of his jeans, so Newt sighs and sets down his pen to adjust himself. He catches sight of Hermann out of the corner of his eye, scribbling on his blackboards as usual.  _Hermann doesn't pop a boner just because it's almost nine on Wednesday_ , Newt reminds himself,  _and neither should you_.

At 20:45, he gives up and starts cleaning up and preserving his samples for the next morning. At 20:50, he excuses himself with an off-hand "see you", and barely nods in response to Hermann's murmured "your room." 

Newt spends a majority of the walk back to his quarters debating it he could feasibly rub one out before Hermann gets to his room and still be able to go again. Maybe he can make it extra slow, extra good for Hermann, to give himself time…

No. No, because that's not what this is about. This is mutually beneficial tension release, nothing more, and Hermann wouldn't have anything that wasn't hard, fast, and neat.

So he spends the five minutes he has before Hermann arrives vaguely tidying up, which mostly consists of shoving things under his bed. Hermann will see it immediately, Newt knows, but maybe he'll appreciate the effort. He snorts to himself and almost misses the sharp rap on the door.

He glances down at his watch. 21:00 on the dot.

Newt hovers around the door, wondering if it would be worth it to make Hermann wait, to not open the door until 21:01. The look on Hermann's face would almost make it worth it, but Newt is never really sure that Hermann won't use his vulnerable state to rip his balls off in retaliation for some bits of kaiju entrails that were over the line (by a few inches! A foot or two at most!) so he decides against it.

Hermann waits as he always does when he comes to Newt's quarters - standing as tall as his leg will allow, cane ramrod straight by his leg, staring at Newt almost defiantly as the door swings open, as if daring Newt to make some sort of joke. And Newt means to, he really does, but something in that defiant stare silences the smart-ass inside him and he just steps to the side and says, "come in."

Hermann sweeps inside (he walks lopsided! How does he sweep?) and sits down on the edge of Newt's bed. "I see you are still a pig, Newton."

"Not all of us can keep our books at literal right angles," Newt shoots back. "If it bothers you so much, you can leave. We'll be back in yours on Friday anyway."

Hermann rolls his eves and for a second Newt thinks, just like he does every week, that Hermann will actually get up and leave this time. But no, he just jerks his head and says, "come here" and Newt almost trips over his feet to comply.

~

It was Hermann's idea, oddly enough.

Sometimes Newt never quite believes that, thinks he made it up in a dream or a drunken haze, because Hermann, _Dr. Hermann Gottlieb_ , does not suggest things like that.

But he did, and Newt laughed in his face, and then blinked a few times and said, "what, really?"

"Yes, really," Hermann said. "It's logical, Newton, if you take a moment to think about it."

So Newton took a moment to think about it, then shook his head. "I still don't get it. I mean, no that I'm opposed or anything, I don't mind who I get off with, but why would…" He motioned between the two of them. "Why?"

"Because it's simple," Hermann explained. "It's simple and easy and it spares us the effort of having to go out and find others–"

"You?" Newt interrupted incredulously. "Why would  _you_  need to go out and find someone to fuck?"

Hermann flushed a little and rolled his eyes. "Just beause I don't go around trying to pick up women in dive bars, that does not mean that I don't have…" He glanced around the room, looking for the right word. "…urges."

Newt smirked. "I see. And you've got these, ah,  _urges_  for me then?"

"You are convenient," Hermann said, slightly irritated. "Believe me, Newton, a hurried handjob in a kaiju groupie's bedroom is hardly my first choice in sexual experiences, but you are what is here."

"Hey! What's wrong with my room? It's not like I've got, like, action figures or something."

"Completely missing the point, Newton, as usual," Hermann commented dryly. "Do you agree or not?"

"I'm down, dude," Newt said, holding up his hands. "When were you thinking?"

"A couple of days every week, Tuesday or Wednesday and then Friday, perhaps. Eliminate stress partway through the week and then again at the end."

"We usually have meetings on Wednesday mornings, don't we?" Newt said. "Make it Wednesday nights, and then Fridays. Start the weekend off with a bang."

Hermann sighed loudly and pinched the bright of his nose, then through gritted teeth, said, "very well. Do you have a preference for time?"

"Seven?"

Hermann looked up sharply. "Certainly not. Do not short-change the PPDC just because you wish to have an orgasm. I can agree to no earlier than nine."

"Alright, nine then."

"Very well. I will meet you in your quarters at nine on Wednesday, then," said Hermann.

"I'll see you tomorrow morning, dude."

"Do shut up, Newton."

The first few times were terribly awkward. Newt's touched a few dicks in his time, but it never stops being weird, the way you think it will be like jerking yourself off but in reverse, and then it never really is. Newt kept forgetting about Hermann's hip, dragging him forward until he heard the hiss of pain or got a cane to the chest. He learned fairly quickly what Hermann didn't like - too much or too little lube, any tugging at his foreskin once it had retracted - and what he did like - very sensitive right under the glans, or having his balls rolled slowly as he got close. Hermann seemed to know how to get Newt off right away, driving Newt to biting his knuckles as he came, shuddering, over Hermann's hand the very first time they met in Newt's quarters. Newt looked up, blinking stupidly, trying to think of something to say, but Hermann just got a tissue, cleaned off his hand, and said, "good night, Newton," leaving Newt sitting dumbstruck on his bed, jeans still around his thighs.

~

Newt situates himself in front of the bed, knees braced on either side of Hermann's legs. Hermann likes this position because it's far easier on his hip than most of the other positions they've tried. Her's also fond of it because it's easy to catch the mess without disturbing the rhythm, and, Newt suspects, because he doesn't have to make any eye contact.

Newt likes this position because he gets his dick stroked, and that's always nice. And maybe a little bit because he can run his hands through Hermann's hair and direct him with his grip.

Hermann unzips Newt's jeans and tugs them down a little, then pulls his cock out of his boxers. He makes a small, appreciative noise, which Newt loves, even though he can never tell if Hermann appreciates his cock or just the fact that it's already hard. Hermann glances up and asks, "how do you want it tonight?"

"Hard," Newt says without thinking. "It can hurt a little. You can just use spit."

"Disgusting," Hermann mutters, but he spits into his palm and spreads it as best he can over Newt's cock.

"If I didn't know you better, I'd say you got off on insulting me," Newt says. He reaches up and holds onto Hermann's shoulder with one hand.

Hermann raises an eyebrow. "Well, I'm certainly not doing it for my health." And then his hand wraps tight around Newt's cock and gives it one long, slow pull. Newt digs his teeth into his lower lip and yes, this is how he likes it the most, the drag and the pull and the rough edge that he just doesn't get anymore when fucking anyone else.

"Do be still, won't you, Newton?" Hermann says, and before Newt can answer, he starts pumping his hand - fast, just like Newt asked for, because Hermann Gottlieb ignores many things that Newt says, but when it comes to this… When it comes to Wednesdays and Fridays at twenty-one hundred hours, locked inside their quarters, he knows just how to listen. The pads of his fingers and the webs of skin on his hands drag deliciously. It hurts a little, of course it hurts, it's far too dry to be smooth and painless, but Newt has never really enjoyed smooth and painless. He always searches for that edge, and Hermann somehow always finds it in himself to give it to him.

Hermann spits on his hand again and Newt perversely wishes that he would just spin on his dick instead. But he can't tell if he would like it for the action or for the shock value, and Hermann's hand is closing around him again so it doesn't really matter. The grip that's just a bit too tight to fuck through comfortably - not that it stops Newt from trying. He ruts his hips forward and meets Hermann stroke for stroke. He looks down and admires Hermann's concentration and, as much as he'd love to meet those eyes as he comes, Hermann's single-minded determination to do whatever is set in front of him is fascinating, and terribly hot when it's focused on him.

His hand is in Hermann's hair again (when did it get there?) and Hermann's got this prissy look on his face, but he never tells Newt to stop, to pull away. He just lets Newt thrust into his fist, picks up the slack when the rhythm falters, and God, Hermann knows how to draw out that slight edge of discomfort that brings pleasure through contrast.

Hermann rubs the head of Newt's cock with his palm a couple times, and Newt is about to open his mouth and _ask what the hell, Hermann_  but then Hermann's hand smooths over the shaft a couple of times, and his hands are so goddamn warm and his fingers are so thin, he could spend hours opening Newt up and his cock's not even that big, and they don't even have that kind of relationship, really, and this was never Newt's idea, so he never feels like he can push for more, but fuck if he could just get Hermann to work two of those goddamn slender fingers inside him–

"Oh,  _fuck_ ," and he's coming at the thought, fingers curled tightly in Herman's hair, and he belatedly thinks that he should have warned Hermann - "it's common courtesy," Hermann has said, dabbing semen off his sleeve the second time they'd done it - but Hermann's got a tissue held tight around the head of his cock, and the fact that Hermann knows his body's tells so well forces one last weak twitch out of his cock before he pulls away, sitting heavily on the bed next to Hermann.

He always feels like he should say something in these instances, these breaks between orgasms, but he never knows what to break the silence with. Hermann doesn't break it either, just leans over and tosses the balled up tissue on top of the trash in Newt's bin. Newt belatedly curses himself for not thinking to take it out earlier, but Hermann's seen his room in far worse states, when he's been too manic to focus on cleaning up or too low to care, and anyway, Hermann never comments on it, not when he knows that Newt actually cares.

Hermann sits heavily on the bed, legs spread a little, and Newt is pleased to see that he hasn't had no effect on the man. Hermann's trousers are tented a little - not a full erection, but definitely interested. Newt looks down at Herman's cock, then up at Hermann. "Do you–"

Hermann waves his hand. "You know what to do."

Newt nods, but then he lets his eyes drop back down to the bulge in Hermann's trousers, and feels vaguely captivated, and he wants to roll his eyes at himself for feeling vaguely captivated by a penis, but it's not the penis that he's captivated by, really, it's the owner. He wants Hermann's cock and he wants the rest of him too, wants to get him off and make it good and–

Shit, he'd better not be in love. He'd better fucking not be in love with Hermann fucking Gottlieb. He isn't and he can't and he–

He hits the floor and it hurts his knees but he doesn't really notice. He just shuffles forward until he's kneeling between Hermann's legs, pushing them apart and Hermann is staring down at him with the most incredulous look on his face and all Newt wants to do is make to go slack.

"Newton, what–"

"Let me blow you."

~

Newt still remembers the first time he made Hermann lose control.

It was a Saturday morning, ironically enough. A Saturday morning, although some might still call it Friday night, but it was Saturday morning at four o'clock and there had been a kaiju attack the day before, and it was all hands on deck and that included all K-Science hands as well. The kaiju went down and the Jaeger came back, successful but empty-handed, and Newt tried not to be disappointed in the lack of new samples. He came back into the lab, following a few post-kill celebratory drinks with Tendo, and Hermann was there, pacing and muttering. Newt leaned in the doorway, jacket in one hand, and said, "we've missed our appointment."

Hermann looked up, startled, then nodded after a second. "Yes. Yes we have."

"I think we should make it up," Newt said. (Or the Jägermeister said. He was never really sure.)

He kind of expected Hermann to put up a fight, or at the very least to claim that it was unnecessary, that they were grown men and could get by a few extra days with their own hands, but to his surprise, hermann just nodded and set his data pad down. "Shall we return to my quarters then?"

"No."

"No? But it was Friday, and Fridays are my quarters."

Newt dropped his jacket on a table by the doorway. "Let's do it in here."

"Let's– what?"

"In here. Now. No one's going to come down tonight."

"Newton, that is ridiculous. Not to mention unsanitary," Hermann said, but there was no real bite to it. 

"C'mon, Hermann. It's just us. And I can already tell…" He glanced down pointedly at Hermann's trousers. "You don't really mind the idea."

Hermann looked down too, as if surprised by his own apparent arousal, then all but growled out, "oh, come on then, you bloody bastard."

They didn't even bother with taking anything off, content to just shove hands into pants and make due with the tight angles. Newt was a little drunk and a lot adrenaline high and it didn't make much to tip him over the edge. He came in his pants like the very first time and waited for the snarky comment from Hermann for a long five or six seconds before he realized that Hermann was biting his lip, eyes half-closed. 

"You liking this, then?" Newt asked, shifting a little so that his softening cock didn't press too much into the wet spot.

Hermann just hummed, let his eyes fall closed, leaned back against the desk, gripped the wood edge with one hand and Newt's arm with the other.

"Shit, you really are," and it had a tone of bewilderment to it.

"Yes," Hermann breathed.

"You want faster?"

"Yes!"

So Newt went faster, jerking Hermann's cock as fast as the fabric confines would let him, until he heard an honest to God moan come from Dr. Hermann Gottlieb's lips.

"Uh… Hermann?"

"For God's sake, don't  _stop_!" Hermann replied urgently. He let his head fall forward, resting it against Newt's shoulder, and Newt didn't stop, not matter how much his arm muscles were straining, because never in all their years or working together had Newt heard Hermann make that sort of noise.

And there it was again, low pitched and long, and a jerk of Hermann's hips that  _definitely_ never happened before, and then Hermann was coming too, cursing into Newt's shoulder and shaking madly, like he would fall down without Newt's support. Newt waited until Hermann's panting had slowed down a little, then leaned across the desk for a towel. He offered it to Hermann, who accepted it and carefully pulled out and cleaned off his cock before tossing the towel back on the desk.

That in itself was an oddity that Newt did not anticipate seeing again soon, so he just looped on arm around Hermann's waist and said, "come on, man, it's like four thirty in the morning. Let's get some sleep."

"Mm," was about all the response Newt could get out of him until he deposited Hermann at his quarters. Hermann unlocked the door, then turned around and very softly said, "good night, Newton" before disappearing inside.

Newt nodded to the closed door, then went back to him own room and fell asleep to the feeling of Hermann's forehead pressed against his shoulder.

~

"What?"

"Let me suck you off," Newt repeats.

"I– that's not in the agreement, Newton," Hermann says, and Newt is pleased to see a blush settling over his cheeks. "We agreed about this–"

"We agreed to get each other off on Wednesdays and Fridays at nine. The handjob thing was just a formality." Newt tilts his head to the side. and cuts Hermann off when the man starts to speak. "Come on, Hermann, just… Let me?"

"Newton…"

"Please?"

Hermann looks confused, almost awestruck, but eventually he nods once and lets his legs spread farther apart. "Alright."

"Thank you." And Newt's not really sure why he's thanking Hermann for letting Newt give him a blowjob, but it still feels like some sort of a gift and Newt is bizarrely grateful for it.

He unzips Hermann's trousers and pulls them down with his underwear, runs his thumb over the twisted scars on Hermann's hip, trails his fingertips up and down the length of Hermann's half-hard cock. Hermann sighs a little above him, but it's not his usual exasperated sigh. It's quiet and fond and content, like he's wanted to get Newt here for a while.

Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Newt wraps a finger and thumb around Hermann's cock and strokes up slowly, until Hermann is fully hard and squirming a little bit on the bed. Newt looks up and Hermann's not looking at him, but he does have his eyes closed, and that's nearly as good. Newt bows his head and wraps his hand around the base of Hermann's cock and sucks the head into his mouth. There's a sharp inhale from somewhere above him, and Newt feels a small rush of pride at being the one to elicit it.

He sucks Hermann off fast, the way Herman did for him, the way he usually does for Hermann, the way Hermann always asks for it, taking more and more into his mouth until his gag reflex kicks in, and it's been a very long time since he's done this and he can't remember how to suppress it. 

Hermann Gottlieb is a man who appreciates finesse, but Hermann Gottlieb has his cock in the mouth of a man who appreciated getting things done. So it's fast and sloppy. Newt can feel saliva on his chin and his jaw is aching, but Hermann has one hand supporting himself on the bed and the other in Newt's hair, and he's thrusting shallowly into Newt's mouth with as much force as Newt allows him.

" _Gott_ , Newton,  _scheiße_ , I'm…" Hermann gasps out.

Newt feels heat rush down to his stomach because for once in his life, Hermann looks utterly debauched, sweaty and flushed and face twisted in pleasure that almost looks like pain, but pain never quite draws those pitches of moans. And he knows what's coming and he nods and about ten seconds later, Hermann shouts his name, followed by something unintelligible in German, and his hips buck up into Newt's face and Newt tries so hard to swallow around him without coughing, even as his eyes start to water from the lack of oxygen.

After what feels like an eternity, Hermann sags back onto the bed, panting. He brushes the hair off of his forehead with his free hand - the other is now carding through Newt's hair where it was gripping before. Newt closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Hermann's hip until Hermann's voice startles him out of his reverie.

"Have you wanted to do that for a long time?" Hermann asks gently. Newt looks up sidelong, but there's no malice in his face, just curiosity.

"I, um… Yeah, I guess," Newt says dumbly. "I mean, I like this arrangement, it's good for stress and focus and stuff most of the time, but…"

"But?" Hermann prompts.

"Sometimes I just want you," Newt finishes. "This. With you."

Hermann gestures vaguely at himself, and then at Newt, still on his knees. "You want  _this_  with me?"

"I think so, yes," Newt says softly. 

"Well then," Hermann says, and he smiles. It's thin lipped, but so is he, and it's genuine. And so is he. "I suppose that can be arranged."


End file.
